Striking Flame
Cast Ken Matsumune Katsu Unmei Shizuka Unmei ---- Three days in the Land of Iron and Katsu had still hardly said a word to his sister outside their short briefing sessions at the end of each day. Shizuka wondered if he was still upset that the mission turned out to be nothing more than information gathering. Maybe he was mad at her for letting him go on a wild goose chase for the Hokage. Maybe he just got a glimpse of that scar, the one just under his collarbone that she had given him, every time he got up to shower in the morning. Regardless of the reason, Katsu seemed to do his best to avoid Shizuka. She couldn't help but worry about her younger brother when he was out of sight, capable shinobi as he may be. They were doing delicate work and delicate was never a word Katsu had been fond of. Every time one of the revolutionaries pasted Katsu's gaze Shizuka saw her brother's eyes scanning them up and down, trying to gauge their strength. "You fancy that there kitchen knife?" A pot bellied man asked Shizuka. "It's quite nice," Shizuka replied with a smile. "Much nicer than the one I have at home. A little pricey though." "Can't help that," the man said. The man leaned back in his chair and crossed his feet up onto the wooden desk he sat behind. "Been selling cutlery in here for about a decade now. This revolution got the prices on good steel at an all time high. Mining villages like this are gonna become boom towns once this is all over." "I'll bet. Maybe I'll move her permanently after all the fighting is over." Shizuka put the kitchen knife back in its place among a variety of blades. "Where you from girly?" The man put his feet back down and leaned forward. "Chichibu village. You probably haven't heard of it. Pretty small place." Shizuka told the lied just like she had been doing for the past three days. Chichibu was indeed a real place, though Shizuka had never been there herself. "Actually, I have a brother currently living in Chichibu." "Is that so?" Shizuka began repeatedly curing in her mind. "I actually plan to visit him soon. He usually invites me up to take part in that little festival they have at the beginning of next month." The man's words seemed void of compassion and Shizuka immediately began feeling uncomfortable, though she did not show it. The intent had been to probe the store owner for information on the revolution. Now the best course of action seemed to be to exit the store as quickly as possible without drawing any extra attention. "The end of the month? I think you're mistaking sir. The Cherry Blossom Festival is at the end of next month." The man eyed Shizuka for a moment before smiling. "Well, guess you saved me from heading out a little early. I'll have to give my brother a call, tell him a pretty young thing stopped me from making a huge blunder." "Just glad I could help. Take care now." Shizuka made her way around the tables of cutlery and passed the man behind the desk. Out of the corner of her eye Shizuka spotted a strange piece of wood poking just over the other side of the counter. It was within arms reach of the man and Shizuka could have sworn his hand inched towards the weapon when he mentioned his brother in Chichibu village. As she exited the store, Shizuka determined that the piece of would could be nothing but the stock of a Gelel Gun. ---- “''Utte!” All along the firing line, a hundred artillerymen echoed the command of the forward observer by pulling the trigger. A cacophony of metal clacking against metal followed, then the valley was once again subsumed in tranquil silence. “Again!” The officer shouted, and the motley regiment of villager-turned-soldiers quickly lowered their weapons as they repeated the rote movements of reloading, despite the fact that they had no ammunition. Ken watched them from a distance, arms crossed over his chest as he sat on top of a rock that jutted out from the side of the hill. His position afforded him a full view of the valley with its narrow river that snaked down from the black peaks to the north, and in the distance he could see thin tendrils of smoke rising from the nearby mining village, hidden in the folds of the mountains. For a moment, he closed his eyes and allowed the ever-present wind to reveal what could not be seen. It sang as it rushed across the ragged crags, carrying with it the shrill cry of a hawk that circled somewhere far overhead, and even the ringing of a hammer striking against a forge. Then, beginning in the pit of his abdomen and spreading to the balls of his feet, Ken felt-out the rhythm of the surrounding world: the weight of the practicing soldiers on the plain, the reverberation of a waterfall crashing over its rim, and the sudden intrusion of a human presence approaching behind him. “What do you think Takimoto-dono?” Ken asked his right-hand man without opening his eyes. The warrior paused, surveyed the same scene that Ken had been observing, and shrugged. “They’re doing better than what could be expected, I suppose,” he hazarded, scratching the beard on his chin. “Er, what’s your thought?” “These drills won’t service much in terms of actual combat,” Ken explained, “But at the least it accustoms them to following orders... and to handling the guns,” he stood, slipped the ''tachi that had been resting across his lap into his obi, and brushed the dust from his hakama. “At any rate, the familiarity will help to ease their anxiety when it comes to practicing with live ammunition.” “Er, to be honest sir, do you really think that’s gonna be a good idea? It’s not like our Gelel supply is unlimited.” “Better to waste six rounds in practice than six lives on the battlefield.” Ken stated tersely. Yet he frowned as his hand traced the tsuba of his sword. In reality, Ken would have preferred to avoid using the guns entirely. He envisioned the regiment in the valley below him practicing kenjutsu instead of marksmanship, and imagined the sound of steel clashing against steel, the smell of honest sweat beneath armor, and the glint of reflected sun blurring his sight. But the rules of combat had changed drastically in the last four hundred years, and the revolutionaries had to take advantage of every opportunity afforded to them. If that opportunity came in the form of a fearsome machine that could cut through a man’s heart with the skill of a child... then so be it. “Let’s go.” Ken said as he turned away from the training grounds without further comment. Takimoto fell in step beside him as they made their way back to the village, quickly filling him in on the status reports that had filtered in since morning. Apparently a force from the Itagaki clan had moved further along one of the revolution’s supply routes during the night, and communication had been cut off with a sleeper unit in Itagaki territory. While troubling, there had been no sign of open conflict, and the only thing they could do was wait until word could be sent from the other side. But Ken’s stomach twisted. Maori was currently on the western front. She might be there. When the two samurai reached the heart of the village, Takimoto suggested they stop to eat something. Ken had little appetite, but he agreed since did not want to voice his personal concerns about Miori to his lieutenant. They turned aside at a mountain soba restaurant, but before entering Ken suddenly became aware of a hostile sense of wariness that pressed like a subtle blade into the back of his neck. He turned, but seeing nothing out of the unusual, took his seat at a table under the eaves across from Takimoto. Ken placed a coin on the table. “Tea, if it isn’t too much trouble,” he ordered. He assumed a casual posture, but kept one eye on the street, trying to pin down the source of his unease.